


Ianto's Ceiling

by Sioux



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-23
Updated: 2012-03-23
Packaged: 2017-11-02 10:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sioux/pseuds/Sioux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto takes Jack home for a change of scene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ianto's Ceiling

Ianto’s Ceiling  
By Sioux

 

Jack looked down dispassionately at the tiny figures of his colleagues walking around on the floor of the hub. He perched high up on the gantry, near the pterodactyl’s hide. If you were afraid of heights it wasn’t an ideal place to sit and brood, but when you couldn’t die, whatever you did, there was little to fear. 

He could hear their voices, as far away sounds, asking where Jack had disappeared to. None of his team thought to look up.  
One by one he watched as first Toshiko then Owen then Gwen departed for their homes. Only Ianto remained, steadily and methodically tidying and cleaning then even he left. 

The silence echoed up here. Occasionally he heard a rustling as the creature stirred in her sleep. She was sleeping late tonight but Jack didn’t disturb her.

The door to the hub clicked open, lights brightening and outlining Ianto walking at his usual steady pace to the boardroom carrying two white plastic carrier bags. It was late, must be close to ten, Jack thought, checking his watch. Yes, twenty after ten.   
Just before he entered the boardroom Ianto looked directly up at Jack.

“I’ve got food. Are you coming down?”

Their eyes met for a minute before Ianto resumed his interrupted journey to the boardroom where Jack could hear the sound of crockery and cutlery being placed on the table. Even a sparkling tinkle as glassware joined them. Faint smells wafted up on air currents. Smelled like Chinese. His stomach rumbled. With a sigh he got up and walked along the steel beam then made his way down via the stairway bolted to the wall.

“It’s late,” Jack stated unnecessarily from the doorway. “You should be at home.”

“It’s still hot. Do you want a glass of wine?” 

Ianto held up the bottle of cold white wine. When he didn’t answer, Ianto poured a glass anyway and carried on eating.

Slowly Jack walked into the room and sat down at the empty place setting next to Ianto. Ianto continued eating in silence not looking up from his plate.  
Jack picked up a fork and ran the tines through the small pile of special fried rice on the plate. The fragrant grains steamed gently as he brought the portion to his mouth and then chewed it, swallowing with difficulty. Reaching for the glass his fingers almost slid off the condensation beading the outside surface. He gulped a mouthful of wine, dislodging the sticky grains of rice.

He put the glass down and folded his hands in front of him, looking at the tabletop through the misty vapour rising from his meal until it cooled. Large fat tears rolled silently and unnoticed down his face, dripping off the end of his chin and landing in untidy splotches on his shirt.

Ianto finished half of his food, drank his wine then poured himself another glass, nursing it in both hands.

“Did you love her in the same way now as you did then?” Ianto asked softly.

Jack snorted, a sound which came out a half sob and half desperate laugh.

“She would have been horrified,” he answered shortly.

Ianto waited patiently.

Jack turned his head to look at the Welshman.

“Someone she thought was the son of the man she’d loved sixty years ago, coming on to her like a lover.”

A small smile flickered at Ianto’s lips as he looked down into his wineglass.

“You didn’t mind lying to her though,” he replied, the harsh words in direct contrast with the gentle tone in which they were spoken.

Jack waited so long before answering that Ianto thought he wasn’t going to try.

“Is it a lie when you do it to protect someone you love?” Jack finally asked.

“I don’t know anymore Jack. You tell me.”

Jack slowly turned to face Ianto. Both men sharing a million words of pain, sorrow, apology and forgiveness in the space of one long look. 

Ianto’s face softened in sympathy. If he lived long enough he knew his memories of Lisa would grow dim, the sharp edges softening; if he died then he wouldn’t care anyway. Jack would never know either type of peace.

Jack’s eyes followed him as Ianto stood. He ran gentle fingers through the unruly hair which flopped over Jack’s forehead, then bent and kissed him there; a benediction of forgiveness and compassion. 

Jack’s eyes closed as he leaned into the temporary sanctuary of Ianto’s chest; Ianto’s arms circling his shoulders and holding him close. 

“I’m sorry for your loss Ianto,” Jack whispered.

“I’m sorry I called you a monster,” Ianto said tenderly, stroking his hair.

“It’s what I am.”

“No, not a monster. I don’t know if you are human, but you have mercy, compassion, love and humanity in you.”

“You’re standing here with someone you think might be alien? Should you be scared?” 

Jack asked, his sense of humour briefly surfacing.

“Even shared a kiss once. Gave me some of his life energy at any rate. Come on.” Ianto stepped back and held out his hand.

“Where are we going?” Jack asked, confused.

“Home, with me. You can stare at a different ceiling tonight.”

Jack started to shake his head.

“I’m offering the comfort of another body holding you, not sex. You don’t have to be alone tonight.”

Ianto’s ceiling was papered and painted cream, with several odd looking cracks under the paper which Jack’s mind turned into the outline of a face, with a long nose and a sagging chin. 

It was quite a nice ceiling.


End file.
